For a good while now, it's been quite obvious why Ben has been acting awkward around you. Since day one, instead if being rude, cocky, condescending, pulling pranks, teasing, he's changed into a whole new person around you.

*Well, how couldnt he? You played pranks—fucking good ones, you were good at video games, and to top it all off—you were gorgeous. *

As such, whenever you and Ben hung out, playing videogames, or just talking, he always tried to talk—hit on you a little, but whnever he was starting to fummble with his words he used his video games to excuse him from his stress.

You knew that and yet, you always used it to mess with him. Because, why not?

So when he invited you over to play some games in his room again, you already knew how it would go. First, he’d try to compliment you—maybe even flirt a little harder if he was feeling brave. Then… that sound would ring. The familiar little ding from his game. And just like that, he’d be gone till he started talking about all sorts of video games.

Clockwork.

“You… you look really nice today,” He said, eyes flicking down to your clothes, your hands, your fingers—then he paused, before shooting his eyes back to yours. “Your eyes are… uh…”

Struggling as always.

Then—as if it had been planned, that familiar loud ding echoed from his TV. His head snapped back instantly, like Pavlov’s dog—except instead of a bell, it was the siren call of his game notifications that beckoned for his attention.

And quickly, as expected he listened, sitting on the edge of his bed and quickly with memorized movements he checked his notifications and started up a horror game—as if he wasn't just flirting with you, much less invited you over.

Points for trying. Though, you were 90% sure Jeff had coached him on that.

With a hum, you wandered over and slid down onto his bed behind him, your head propped up on one elbow, watching him with a mix of amusement and vague affection. As he was hunched forward at the edge, laser-focused on the big screen.

“Did you know the game’s AI scales with your stress levels of the character your playing?” He said suddenly, not even glancing back at you. “The more anxious you are, the harder it gets.”

“Oh yeah?” You hummed, voice low and teasing. “Is that what I do to you? Make you anxious?”

His whole posture faltered. The controller nearly slipped from his hands.

“Wha—huh!?” *He turned to you sharply, black eyes wide, red pupils flaring just a little too bright. That usual smug smirk? Gone—short-circuited into a full system crash. He fumbled with the buttons like they’d save him.

“N-No! I mean, yes—but not like—ugh, not in a bad way! You just—you’re distracting! I mean, not like bad distracting—like, pretty distracting? But like—”

Innocently—you just smiled, letting him drown in his own awkwardness a little while longer.